Pooh's Predicament and Other Stories
by AmusingAnomaly
Summary: Winnie the Pooh has just seized control of the Iron Throne! How will he fare against Robb Stark of Winterfell? Become immersed in this tale as more and more characters come to join the fun in Westeros!
1. Chapter 1

The Iron Pooh

"Oh, bother," Winnie the Pooh said to himself as he sat upon the iron throne. It was terribly uncomfortable for a chair. No matter how much he squirmed or shifted there was nothing he could do to make sitting on such a throne comfortable. When he finally managed to sit properly, he saw a servant come rushing toward him.

"Winterfell is attacking, Your Grace. We need to mobilize quickly so that we can be ready for them."

"Who are you, again?"

"I am Varys, Your Grace. Now it's important that you make a decision right now. What is our plan?"

"Think, think, think, think ..." Pooh said, tapping himself on the head. "You know Varys, it's been so long since I've had a smackerel of honey. Would you kindly bring me some?"

"With all due respect, my king," another man said, "there is no time for smackerels of honey right now. Our men are dying out there!"

"Dying of what?" Pooh said, genuinely confused.

Just then the doors to the great hall burst open and in rushed armored men with shields, spears and swords. Immediately they began to slash and tear at the people in the hall.

"Surrender now, Winnie the Pooh! Your reign of terror ends here."

"I'm sorry, but I don't think it can rain terror. Just water."

"I'll repeat myself again," said the boy who looked to be about sixteen, "surrender now or prepare to die!" He raised his sword high into the air.

"Well I hope you're happy Your Grace," said a man with a pointed goatee and beady eyes. "You took too much time to decide what to do and now we're out-numbered and losing."

"Oh, bother," Pooh replied. He looked at the soldier that stood before him. "Now who is it are you?"

"I'm Robb Stark of Winterfell, the King in the North. You've murdered my father and hold my sisters captive. You will pay for your crimes Winnie the Pooh."

"Oh, dear, did I do that?" Pooh said confused as ever. "I don't remember ever doing that at all."

"You were at the execution weren't you?! You gave the orders to chop off my father's head!"

"Now, why would I do such a thing," Pooh asked trying to remember why, if at all, he really did order to chop someone's head off.

"Your Grace, if I may remind you ..." Littlefinger whispered something in Pooh's ear and Pooh suddenly perked up.

"You mean ...," Pooh began, "he didn't have any honey so I had to chop off his head? Is that what we do around here?"

"We cannot get honey in Winterfell you willy nilly silly old bear!" Robb cried out.

"I'm the Old Bear here," Jeor Mormont said to Robb.

Robb continued. "It's not fair that you have a honey tax for everyone in Westeros. You killed my father because he couldn't bring you honey. Prepare to die you vile bear!"

"I am really, really sorry Robb," Pooh apologized. "I did not know that your father would be killed because of my need for honey. Please tell me what I can do for you."

Robb looked bewildered. "Are you serious? You don't want to fight?"

"I believe I've caused you much grief already Sir Robb -"

"King Robb," Robb corrected. "And what I want is for you give me back my sisters Arya and Sansa."

"Where are Robb's sisters?" asked Pooh.

"In the dungeon, Your Grace," said a man in a dog helm.

"Sandor, is it? Would you please go find them for me? It would seem we've committed a grievous mistake."

"As you wish." The man in a dog helm strode away.

"Is there anything else we can do you for?" Pooh asked.

"I've come to seize the iron throne from your grasp!" Robb bellowed.

"Oh, this chair? You can have it. I nearly cut myself every time I sit on it." Pooh carefully climbed off the throne, avoiding the sharp points of the swords. "Here you go Robb."

"No, Your Grace! What are you doing?" Grand Meister Pycelle asked.

"I'm giving our friend Robb here a turn on the chair."

"Um, thank you, Pooh," Robb said sheathing his sword. He walked up to the throne and sat himself upon it. He cleared his throat as he angrily stared at Pooh.

"Is there something else?" asked Pooh with concern.

"Your crown."

"Oh," said Pooh removing the crown from his head. "Now, it is your turn to be king."

"Wow, that was really easy."

Sandor walked onto the dais with Sansa and Arya. "Your sisters, Stark." Sandor shoved the two girls forward and faded back into the crowd.

"Is everything to your liking, Robb?"

"That's Your Grace!" snapped the King in the North.

"Oh, bother. You know I really should be going." Pooh began to waddle away through the crowd, people staring at him awkwardly, all the way wondering how he got here from the Hundred Acre Wood.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2: Donald Duck's Dangerous Endeavour

As Pooh wandered through the crowds of King's Landing, a feeling of lightness overcame him. The time he spent on The Iron Throne was nice – he could get honey any time he wanted; but making decisions about what to do in battle was something he just couldn't get his head around. If people were dying out there, what could he, a mere bear, do about it? Plus he had a long turn on the chair and thought it was best that someone else could enjoy the honey and feeling of being a king.

Something caught Pooh's eye somewhere in the crowd. A white figure wearing a shawl. It was much shorter than anyone else around, and by Pooh's eye they had an a yellow bill poking out from under the hood. At Pooh's contact, the figure scurried away through the crowd.

* * *

Donald roughly made his way through the crowd, veering around women, men and children. They were all shouting angry things at the castle, things Donald dared not repeat.

Donald continued shuffling through the crowd. He soon came to the front of the castle, the drawbridge down. With his hood pulled low over his eyes, he scurried into the building.

There it was. The Iron Throne. The chair that would grant anyone absolute power over the entire continent of Westeros. He quickly made his way inside the throne room and came up to the unoccupied chair.

As he struggled to climb on top of it, Donald was beginning to have some second thoughts. Would anyone see him? If they did, what would they do? And more importantly, would anyone obey him if he simply just sat down on the chair?

His feet fluttered in the air as he pulled himself up the sharp metal throne, carefully trying to miss the tips of the swords. He sat upon the cold metal and looked around. No one was in sight. He was safe.

Pulling the hood off his head, and surveyed the throne room. The empty chamber was exactly what one would expect to see in a throne room. Banners of The Great Houses hung from the ceiling and portraits of the past rulers were hung about the walls. Donald noticed one particular portrait of a man with what looked like crazy, hateful eyes who was standing next to an enormous dragon. The head of the dragon was only seen in the picture – Donald knew this beast must be gigantic.

Some bustling was heard coming from around the throne room. Donald felt a lump of panic well up in his chest. He turned towards the noise and held his breath, gripping his secret weapon beneath his cloak.

"Who goes there?" came a voice.

Donald saw the person come around the corner. They were young looking, appearing to be about sixteen or so years old. He angrily strode up to Donald, hate gleaming in his eyes.

"You're on my throne, traitor!" the boy said as he fixed the drooping crown upon his head. "Give up your spot or prepare to die!" He stopped before the throne, one hand gripping the scabbard of his sword, the other upon the hilt.

Donald was ready for this. "Finders keepers!" he smugly retorted, keeping his hands upon his weapon.

"You filthy duck," the boy said, "That throne was seized by me fair and square. I am King Robb of Westeros. I order you to leave that throne! Do it or face your death!" Robb unsheathed his sword and pointed it at Donald.

"Whahaha!" Donald cried out, scrambling back against the throne. "You think you can take this throne from me? Alright, you asked for it!"

The two stared each other down, no one moving. Donald whipped off his cloak and pointed his staff at Robb, an energy barrier forming between the two of them.

"Magic?" Robb said. "I can cut through this barrier with Ice!"

As Robb prepared to slice through Donald's barrier, more footsteps were heard coming through the hall and both looked to see who was coming.

"Your Grace! Cease this senseless violence at once!" Varys said, coming up to the two of them. "Oh, what have we here?"

"I am Donald Duck, sir!"

"I want this duck off my throne, Varys. He is committing treason!"

Varys held his chin in thought. "Treason? That would suggest he is a citizen of Westeros. I have never seen a duck talk before. Where do you hail from, duck?"

Donald saw Robb sheathe his sword so he called off his barrier to answer Varys. "I come from Disney Castle."

"Were you trying to overthrow King Robb?"

"I just wanted to sit on the chair!" Donald replied innocently.

"And by sitting on the chair," Varys continued, "you hoped you would become King of Westeros?"

Donald looked flustered. "Yeah."

"Very well," Varys conceded, "You are now the new king of Westeros. Robb, hand this dick – I mean – duck – your crown."

"What? That's preposterous! If someone wants to claim the throne then the present king must be killed by that person."

"Donald... Duck was it? Do you wish to fight to the death to rightfully claim the throne?"

Donald shook his head.

"The king has spoken!" Varys exclaimed. "Robb, your crown please."

Robb, with a pout on his face, reluctantly handed the crown over to the oversized talking duck sitting upon the sword throne.

"If what you desire tonight is duck, Robb, we can find you one that is not so... regal." Varys turned and shooed Robb off like he was a stray little dog. "It's time you go back to Winterfell, Robb. Go and play with your direwolf...what was its name again? Grey Water?"

Robb's angry face was the last thing Donald saw of the boy as he sulked out of the Great Hall.

"Your Grace," Varys addressed Donald, "what would you like to do as your first order as King?"

Donald had many things in mind. Several of which included some very dark and dangerous endeavours. "Yes, I want some chocolate cake!"

And so Donald did rule Westeros with an iron wing. Little did he know there were more people than just Robb who wished to claim the throne. Some that may be plotting this very instant...


End file.
